Page 126 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

“Well . . . yeah.”

I reached over to take her hand. “Then we’ll find a way.”

If Memphis’s dream was to plan weddings and events, I’d do whatever necessary to make that happen.

She’d planned two weddings in the past year—one of which was our own. We’d gotten married on the ranch, in a meadow filled with summer wildflowers. Then we’d had a reception at the hotel, cramming the space with friends and family who’d all danced beside us beneath a blanket of fairy lights.

Two days later, we’d gone to the courthouse, where I’d adopted Drake.

We were all Edens. And I, for one, had been happy to see the Ward name vanish.

Contact with Memphis’s parents had been minimal this past year. She’d told them we were getting married, sans an actual invite. Her mother had sent flowers. Her sister had sent a card. Not a word from her father and brother, but Memphis hadn’t cared. She’d already decided that if by some miracle she inherited her trust fund, she’d take the money and set it aside for the kids.

We were six months into this pregnancy and she had yet to inform Beatrice and Victor. Maybe she would eventually, probably after the baby was born, but as time passed, as we built our own life, she seemed more content with their distance.

I suspected that distance would become permanent.

She didn’t need that family.

We were building our own.

And I’d be overprotective every step of the way.

It had been nearly a year since the incident with Jill and Averie Flannagan. There were days when I didn’t think about it, but those were rare. The fears were a constant nuisance, and I only hoped that in time, they’d surface less and less.

Averie Flannagan would be spending most of the decade in a penitentiary. That bitch could rot in jail.

Jill was nearing the end of her prison sentence, and though she’d be released on parole soon, I doubted we’d see her face in Quincy ever again.

Just like we hadn’t heard from Oliver again. The FBI had questioned Memphis and me once after Drake’s kidnapping. During her statement, Memphis hadn’t mentioned Oliver’s name. She’d simply spoken to Averie’s blackmail attempt and going into daycare to find Drake missing. If they’d contacted Oliver

during their investigation, we didn’t know and didn’t care. With any luck, he’d be long forgotten.

I slowed at the turn to home, easing off the highway and down our quiet lane. “What about Harrison?”

“Your dad?” Memphis asked. “What about him?”

“No, the name. Harrison.”

“Oh.” She splayed a hand over her belly. “I think that would be lovely.”

“Me too.” I grinned. “Then the next one we can name Annie, for Mom.”

She laughed. “You’re already thinking of the next one and this one isn’t even born yet.”

“You can pick for the two after that.”

Memphis shook her head, her chocolate-brown eyes sparkling. “You want five? This is news to me.”

“I’m good for six.”

“Five.” She drew a line in the air. “That’s my limit.”

“Five.” I pulled into the garage and, as soon as the truck was off, leaned over the console to finish the kiss I’d started at the hospital.

The loft had been mostly empty since Memphis had moved out. But every time I walked up those stairs, I’d think of the nights I’d spent pacing the floor.

The nights when I’d fallen in love with a little boy. And the woman of my dreams.